Monday, October 29, 2012

This time of year we need a fall storm to pull the leaves
from the trees. This year the people are talking about Sandy.

It will be my first
storm in the new apartment. On the second floor of a well contained box a storm
was not a fear. On the ground floor of an old house, the kind you have to wear
shoes in all the time because the hardwood floor is right on the ground and
cold; the kind where they just sealed up a hole in the window, a hurricane is a
learning experience. All Hurricanes get compared to “the big one” though and
this one is only supposed to bring rain not the wind. I live on high ground, so
I’m not worried about the rain other than to walk to work.

The new apartment has been visited by many. I have received
plants and gifts and the story tellers came and told stories and sang ballads
in the living room. They even set up a skit, that I was part of, without
knowing it, about the new house and the girl on a constant quest.

Everything is all set up, there is a sun porch and the days
are still warm enough to sit out and write, or share hummus with friends. There
are a million windows that let the sunlight in and the kitchen is too cute.

Although I truly believe I live here and don’t wake up in
the middle of the night and wonder where I am, I can’t believe how lucky I am
to be in a place with such character and charm.

The street I live on is great to walk down and the fall
leaves over the hills and on the sidewalk is like walking in an orange candy
land.

Friday, October 19, 2012

I was looking over facebook this morning and saw yet another
post about how you haven’t felt love until you’ve had a child. I know there is
no other love like a child growing in your tummy and calling you mom. I also
know there is no other pain like it. I want to tell you that I have felt
amazing love. I know I love myself.

There is a lover I have inside myself. She has patiently sat
alone in a cold bachelor apartment and let me cry and cry. This lover has listened
to everything I have said; the first hour was always spent finding out what
made me cry, the second hour was calming and explaining the situation how it
happened why. The third hour we talked about how to change it so we grew and
moved past it.

There is a lover I have inside myself who cleaned hotel
bathrooms to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. It wasn’t easy and
I was up against a lot of people who didn’t want me to succeed didn’t think I
could succeed. But I did it for me and theatre and writing and independence.

There is a lover I have inside of me that knew I couldn’t do
it alone anymore. I called my parents and they brought me home. I was 30 and
couldn’t take care of myself. But I loved myself enough to put all my pride all
my dreams aside and work on me. We started back at step one, side by side.

Now my lover is rubbing my back and saying, you’ve done very
well, and asking me to call the best friend up for a walk, invite people over for wine
and hummus, to let people inside to know the love, the trust of others, let them love the me I’ve
created, the me I’ve made strong and loved like no one else has loved.

My love for myself is unbound and I will follow myself into
complete darkness to bring myself out alive.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Last night I did something I’ve wanted to do since 1990. I
found myself my own copy of Jim Henson’s "Story Teller." And I started watching
it. I could have watched the whole season one in one sitting, but I was also so
inspired that I sat down and edited some of the folk tale I’m rewriting and
went over it a few times out loud which I try to do every night but haven't known how to start.It’s a hard thing to do in my house
sit down and tell a story to the wall, but I did it.

John Hurt is the ultimate story teller. I wasn’t conscious of
it, but I wanted to be John Hurt when I was 14. Such power in the voice such expression.
When I took acting classes our first monologue we were told not to do accents.
I did any way. We were told not to do plays outside of acting class, I did
anyway. What a different experience if we were told go ahead do accents for a
moment be John Hurt and find your own voice within that, find out what you can
do, push it to the limits. Who knew that in my 30’s I would be a story teller
too? I would allowed to be John Hurt.

Right now, when I
tell, I have so many words in my head, I end up just reciting the story, just
trying to get all the words out, but how much fun will I have if I get to sit
in my living room and get to do voices and tell the story like a real story
teller. And then share it with the crowd. I can do it.

About Me

I write and sing. I have an awesome writing group and music teachers that help me song write and sing even on the bad days. I have two cats Izzy and Tini. And continue to write myself out of depression.